


Pockets Full Of Stones

by dear_monday



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, M/M, Self-Destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2012-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-03 21:19:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dear_monday/pseuds/dear_monday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ignorance is never bliss where Gerard's concerned, and Mikey's certain there's worse to this than Frank is telling him. Frank and Gerard are dancing around each other, maintaining constant personal space like the two aggressively straight dudes they're definitely not. The stagegay has stopped completely. Mikey is ninety percent sure they aren't fucking and one hundred percent sure whatever went down is serious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pockets Full Of Stones

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings for discussion of substance abuse and self-destructive behavior, implied infidelity.**
> 
>  
> 
> Lo and behold, the BBB procrastination has begun /o\

"He was – you know," says Frank, scuffing his chucks in the dirt, and Mikey nods impatiently. He knows, it's verbal shorthand for Gerard being out of his head again. "And I. I was so fucking high, I didn't know what I was doing, okay."  
  
Frank's apologizing for something he hasn't confessed to yet, and something is roiling and twisting in Mikey's gut. Frank went to Catholic school. Not only can he tie a tie, he can guilt himself like a motherfucker.  
  
"Frank," Mikey says flatly. "I know you're not about to tell me my brother came onto you and you were too fucked up to say no." Frank's bitten lip and drawn eyebrows say it all. Mikey sees Frank slumped low on the bus couch, legs splayed wide and Gerard on his knees between them, both of them too far gone to worry about being quiet and-- fuck, Mikey _really_ doesn't need to be seeing this. Mikey's known for months that they're on a something's-gotta-give collision course, but he hadn't thought it would be this. Ray and Otter haven't said a civil word to each other in longer than Mikey can remember. He doesn't want to be a dick about it because Otter's an old friend and he's been with them since the beginning, but without Ray, they're fucked. Ray's been holding other people together for too long, and Mikey was worried that _when_ something gave, it was going to be Ray.  
  
But now there's this, unexpected and fucking terrifying, and it takes Mikey a minute to get himself back under control.  
  
"What did he say to you?" he asks Frank. He's floating, far-away.  
  
Frank looks uncomfortable. "He said he wanted to--"  
  
"Ugh, not what I meant. Fuck. I don't need details. What did he _tell_ you?"  
  
Frank doesn't say a word, just stares intently at the ground.  
  
"Frank?" Mikey prods, because ignorance is never bliss where Gerard's concerned and Mikey's certain there's worse to this than Frank is telling him. Frank and Gerard are dancing around each other, maintaining constant personal space like the two aggressively straight dudes they're definitely not. The stagegay has stopped completely. Mikey is ninety percent sure they aren't fucking and one hundred percent sure whatever went down is serious.  
  
"He didn't know what he was saying, okay?" Frank yanks at a stray thread on his jeans. He might as just well borrow one of Gerard's sharpies and write _STRAIGHT! IN LOVE WITH JAMIA!_ across his chest. "He was fucking wasted. Just talking shit."  
  
Mikey waits.  
  
Eventually, Frank exhales and shoves a hand roughly through his hair, his eyes wild. "He said he was in love with me and now it's like he's trying to fucking kill himself and I don't know what to _do_ anymore, okay?"  
  
The silence hangs for a second, thick and horrible, and then – "No shit," Mikey spits. "No fucking _shit_ , Frank. Jesus. You encourage him, you let him... fuck, I don't even want to know what happened on the bus, then you start treating him like he's contagious or some shit afterwards? You know how he gets, of fucking _course_ he's trying to kill himself."  
  
"What the fuck, when did I _encourage_ him?" Frank sketches air quotes with unsteady fingers, but he sounds weak and guilty.  
  
Mikey raises an eyebrow. "I don't know, Frank, you tell me. Onstage with your tongue down his throat? You're a fucking idiot sometimes, but you're not blind. You can't have just _not noticed_ the way he looks at you."  
  
"That was fucking – political," Frank protests, squirming away from Mikey's accusation. "He started it."  
  
Mikey could fucking scream with the way Frank can know Gerard so well and not at all, both at once. Frank's never any help with Gerard, because he's usually just as fucked-up on whatever's at hand this time. Frank doesn't avoid problems, he runs headlong into them with utter blind faith that he'll break through or die trying, and Mikey thinks that's what he's trying to do now.  
  
"Of course he _started_ it," Mikey says through gritted teeth. "What I'm saying is that you should have _stopped_ it."  
  
"So what do I _do?_ " Frank asks quietly. He suddenly looks lost and young.  
  
Mikey's not sorry. He hopes Frank feels like the selfish, irresponsible little shit he is. "Don't worry about getting kicked out," he says, turning to leave. "If you don't sort this shit out, there won't be a band left for you get kicked out of. Fix it."


End file.
